The further we go
by Ashes of Stars
Summary: Their love created a child, who never met his other dad because he passed away, so what happens when Draco begins to see Harry again?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers always apply. This is dedicated to Lyon's Own for her fantastic story 'Restoring Faith'.

Harry Potter had been dead for nearly five years but his legacy still lived on. It was evident in the constant referral to the tragic boy, especially as his lover had been propelled to fame when the story broke; Harry Potter had fathered a child with Draco Malfoy. Draco, who was well known in his own right, had been the centre of much media attention for the first year after Harry's death. Everybody had been captivated with the story, as their one time saviour had been the victim of attack, but with no star for the show they all looked upon the stage hands; the one in the corner that watched from afar. In no sense was Draco as famous as Harry until the death of the brunette, but after the tragedy, Draco was subjected to much media frenzy. Magazine articles, gossip headlines and word of mouth plagued the Wizarding world, and there in the covered circle of it all was Draco, dying silently from grief.

Unsure of the world around him, Draco spent his many days alone in the manor he once shared with Harry. Light flittered from ceiling to floor, but no light could illuminate the dark cloud over Draco's head. The last coherent memory he had, where nothing was a buzz or fizzle of fiction, was where Harry kissed him goodbye before the brunette sped off to Japan. There was something eerie in the smile Draco was given from Harry; the lines and curves on the brunettes face held something suspicious and something not seen between lovers often. The eyes that looked upon Draco were saddened but not enough to stop whatever actions were laid out in front of Harry, and soon Draco realised that Harry had known there was something afoot. The night before Harry departed, Draco's inner eye had shown him horrible things unaccounted for the day that Harry left and he wished now he had stopped his lover from going to Japan.

Draco's body had ached in the process of grieving. He had been interviewed countless times after Harry's death, and had seen friends of both his and Harry's so they could grieve with him. It was all rather sordid in it's context; he had just wanted to be alone with his aching body and saddened mind. But when he collapsed in a food market, all eyes on him naturally from being the Chosen One's lover, it came about he might have more problems than just a dead boyfriend. Draco Malfoy was pregnant of magical purity, with Harry Potter's child. Draco was terribly afraid.

High end gossip magazines had reported frequently on the health and whereabouts of Draco, annoying the blonde to no end. He lifted no finger without someone commenting on the act, and he felt increasingly that he couldn't take a breath without someone wondering how he could do that without Harry. And that was just it; the bar against your thoughts travelling further. He was without Harry, and had been for the first time in years. But there, underneath his skin, was another form of the person he had once adored. There inside of him was the living proof of something he had lost.

And now, five years on from the tragic demise of Harry Potter, stands a tragic man at the entrance of Diagon Alley, his son way down by his knee's, holding his hand. "Dad?" Asked the small boy, Dallas.

"Yes?" Draco asked, his eyes scanning the street ruthlessly.

"Are we gonna have ice-cream?"

"No. It's too cold." Draco replied, slight sneer in his voice. Draco hated the ice on his tongue in such bad weather and he knew the tightness in his voice wouldn't reflect in his sons mind.

Diagon Alley was painted in all the blues and black of winter, an upcoming tone of what Christmas would bring. It was lonely looking, this world where people bustled about in attempts to be happy. Harry would have livened up the feeling inside Draco, but Harry wasn't here.

The funeral was a quiet affair and a secret one at that too. Draco hadn't known then that he was pregnant which had alleviated the media circus from his life. He had said goodbye to his lover in a beautiful coffin he had chosen himself. Harry had worn an icy look on his face and he didn't look real. The life and magic once inside of him had been replaced with a void blackness that Draco saw and felt as he looked at his Harry one last time. It hurt to know that Harry laid there, dead and unmoving, when he should have been laying beside Draco in bed, shuffling like he always did. Draco was comforted at the funeral by an invisible barrier against the waves of upset, and that was his undiscovered son.

He hadn't believed it at first. No one would have suspected that the day Harry went away would be the last time he had a chance to come back. It had been three days into his raid on underground Wizarding pornography, when a badly aimed hex from his partner had landed Harry against the floorboards of a warehouse, breathing nothing but a faint memory to the corpse version of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Draco had the news broken to him by a Ministry official, who had looked at him with sad eyes. It was all too unsuspected and he had no time to prepare for such news, even though his heart skipped a beat daily when Harry was on such risky business. But there was always the safeguard that Harry had defeated Voldemort. Why should he worry that much, when his lover was one of the most powerful, undefeated beings of the world?

Diagon Alley was a drip of life; not quite enough to sustain someone's sanity. Draco walked with his son in hand, so he could treat him, towards the sweet shop. The colourful window display glinted against the dirty morbidity of London, but not even the smell could pick up Draco's mood. Tomorrow would be the sixth anniversary of Harry's death and even though Dallas couldn't understand that claim, he knew that every year his dad would become sad.

As they walked in Dallas spoke up to his father, "What can I have?" He was excited and the childish cheer sent a sparkle of happiness though Draco. The blonde, aging man, looked around curiously. The sugar contained in colours and beautiful flavours couldn't adjust his tepid mood, but he wouldn't stop his son from enjoying himself.

"Anything." Draco responded, lifting Dallas up to see a selection of sweets that would turn the consumer blue or green. It was a camouflage tool that hunters had once used, but had been redeveloped for confectionaries sake.

"Can I have some of them?" Dallas cried, pointing to some mouth watering sticky lollypops.

"Of course." Draco said, placing some in a thin plastic bag. They stuck to the sides in blood resembling nature, and with the thought in mind Draco paled.

They had bought a lot of candy before Draco turned to leave the shop. His heart was heavy and the constant thumping was disconnecting himself from his head. He couldn't think with the everlasting reminder of Harry, and his head turning slowly and his hand reaching for Dallas, he caught sight of messy black hair. Outside the shop amongst the bustle of people was someone walking further into Diagon Alley, much in the same way Harry once walked. Draco couldn't see this persons face, but eager to see Harry meant he dropped his sons hand and fled from the shop at top speed.

There was hundreds of people flocking to Diagon Alley, the time of year called for Christmas shoppers to be flocking to establishments of money spending in their hoards. Draco navigated in the direction of Harry, through the many people, calling loudly his love's name. People were stopping to look at the man, whose hair was up caught in wind and speed, and noticing it was one of the Wizarding worlds most talked about figures they all caught their two pence worth of fame grabbing. It was a marvellous sight to see Draco calling out Harry Potter's name. But the man that Draco was following was soon lost in the crowds, not turning around. He had seen him, for sure Harry was there, wearing the same clothes he had worn on the day he had left for Japan.

Heartbroken that Harry had not turned around, Draco stood still and frozen so he could gaze longingly at the place Harry once was. He knew he should feel crazy at the prospect that Harry was there, but he had really seen him of that he was sure. Damnit, he thought, if he had only been three seconds faster he could of caught up with Harry. Suddenly a rage of pent up emotion came through him, because the idiot who had caused Draco so much pain couldn't even turn around and speak to him.

And, Draco thought as he walked back to the sweet shop, he had made him leave his son Dallas. People were looking at Draco from the corner of their eyes, and he felt so mysterious as he collected a dumbfounded Dallas from the sweet shop. He had scarred his son in his actions, and by the look on Dallas' face he had upset his son to no end.

"Where's my other Dad?" Dallas asked, looking around as they walked through Diagon Alley.

"Somewhere, I don't know Dallas. I know he's here, and we will find him." He didn't tell Dallas that it wouldn't be tonight that they would find the missing piece to their puzzle, as they had a previous engagement with Severus Snape.

:Break:

Dallas was asleep on the couch that sat in front of Snape's large fireplace. The fire was warming the small boy into the happiest of dreams, and when Draco checked on him he smiled at the boys obliviousness to the current troubles in their life. Draco sat with Snape drinking, not to quick or deep in their indulging because of the small boy in the other room. "I'm telling you, I saw him!" Draco seethed, as Snape had tried to quash any hopes of Harry being alive.

"And I'm telling you Draco that you saw him lying their dead in the casket."

Draco glared with a hard factor at his Godfather. "Yeah, everybody did. But if he was really dead then why is he here?"

"He isn't here Draco. It must have been someone else! You said yourself that you called for him, so why then did he not turn around to his name?"

"Maybe he left because of me, and he knew it was me calling him." Draco responded downhearted. He couldn't bear to think like that, but think like that he did.

Fed up with the circle of speech they were going through, Snape called an end to their evening. He had set up this night in hopes of replenishing some happiness in his Godson who had suffered greatly at the Gryffindor's demise. "Well, all I will say for now is that if by some small chance Potter is still alive, and he was indeed there today then you must leave him be. If he wants you back, and he is back to get you back then he will come to you. But if the boy is alive and doesn't have the nerve to face up to you, then don't go looking for him, because it will only cause you more grief. Still, you know as well as I do that your mind is playing tricks on you, so when you get home take a sleeping potion and fade away for some hours, okay?" And with that, Snape departed the room leaving Draco to gather his son and floo home.

:break:

Two weeks later caught up with Draco alone in Muggle London. He had been persuaded to give Dallas to Hermione for the day, so he could spend sometime doing solitary things. He had taken Snape's advice, having nothing left to go by now he was all alone in the world. He was strolling down Oxford Street solemnly, his face directed to all the pretty lights of London. The shops towered high overhead, and all the beautiful Christmas lights, from before the whole affair had taken place, were now gone. Still, the Muggles knew how to keep spirit alive; the lights were changing and unending.

As he walked, a small man with Asian features tried to hand him a pamphlet of block blue, yet he refused and kept on walking. It was still blue and grey, the world that is, and suddenly the summer was something Draco pounded for. He couldn't wait to let the summer's ray of light wash the sins and tragedies from him. It was collection of depression, the winter and the windy spring, and thinking about a holiday was what took over the blonde's mind for a while. He walked absentmindedly into a shop, and revelled in the smell of Muggles. He could feel their un-magical aurors cultivating around him.

And there in the corner of his eye was Harry again, switching directions to get out of the shop. He was still in the clothes he was wearing the last time Draco had seen him alive, yet Draco couldn't get a look at his face. Then again, he took Snape's advice and ignored the ghostly presence of Harry even though he was filled with deep suspicion about his ex-lover.

"Can I help you?" Asked a sales assistant, who had noticed the rich radiating off of Draco and had seen commission written all over him. Draco took no notice, but kept following Harry out of the shop with his eyes. He noticed every beauty he had mapped out before, and wondered how much further he must go before he broke under the mystery that was Harry back in his life.

"You can't." Draco replied stiffly, and he turned and walked out of the shop going in the opposite direction of Harry. The brunette was not supposed to be here, that's for sure and if he really was just a ghost or figment of imagination, then why was it so real? Why was the magic coming from Harry as strong as ever and why was the necklace that Draco wore- the partner necklace to the one Harry once wore- tingling against Draco's skin in appreciation that its counter part was somewhere near?

Snape was well trained to have his doubts about things that couldn't be counted as normal, after all the man had lived in the Wizarding world all his life, and Draco knew just as well the implications that magic can have. He knew that things can be created and destroyed as much as they can be faked. After all, Muggles were the kinds of creatures that knew life ended and there was nothing one could do about that, but Wizards were different. They knew that a death can be faked as easily as a child born by a man, yet there hadn't come up any suspicious or untoward movement within the case of Harry Potter and his death.

Why now was it that Draco was seeing his old lover, in the same clothes that he had left in? If Harry's eyes had been telling Draco something was afoot, then it could be possible that it was all an elaborate plan to escape from Draco and the world. What Draco couldn't understand was why on earth was Harry showing up, around the blonde now frequently, and neither approaching or acknowledging him? And if Harry had been announced dead, why was the necklace tingling in the same fashion it did when Harry was known to be alive? It was all rather confusing and distressing, but there was the creation of both Harry and Draco to look after now and the strain of unanswered questions was not going to transferred to Dallas.

Draco sat alone in a café, a cup of hot coffee in front of him. Its smell was that of early mornings with Harry, and the feel of hot porcelain beneath his fingers soothed him subtly. Harry was around and he was sure of that, but why was he tricking Draco into a slow madness? It didn't seem fair after all the love and time that Draco had given to Harry, and surely the brunette wouldn't be that cruel. This wasn't a love tragedy that could be reasoned, and for the last six years Harry had been presumed dead, so why out of the cold hard bitter reality was there the shining face of redemption?

And there he was again in the corner of Draco's eye. He was leaving the café, in perfect Gryffindor stride, and Draco gulped down his coffee before getting up to tail Harry. It was definitely him, he could see that from the hair that bounced with each footstep. Harry was a few metres in front of Draco, who was finding it hard to keep his eyes on the man in the hustle and bustle of London. On the corner by a store called Nike, he found he couldn't see Harry anymore. He was down heartened, but there were other priorities to attend to, like his son. Harry, the fucking bastard, could and would wait. Draco was determined though, to find this man of heartbreak and deceit, if only to kill him for Dallas' sake. No one would know anyway for Harry had pretended to be dead already. The fucker.

:break:

Two weeks on from the incident at the café found Draco contemplating his next actions, in his office, on a warm Sunday morning. He had seen Harry more times than he had time to register it, and the rather vivid harshness had come upon Draco like a bed of nails. He was falling in love with Harry all over again, like he had done when the man had been an absent figure in his life at school. It would seem the distance now present between them had rekindled the feelings that laid dormant before, during their time spent actually together. During the Hogwarts chapter of their lives, the fixation Draco suffered over Harry became the drive to wake up in the morning, just so he could see the face of someone beautiful and be inspired. It was like that now, because he couldn't touch him or kiss him but had to look from afar.

He had devised his plan of action: He was going to play it cool until Harry decided to show himself. He figured that taking Snape's advice was the best, because in his aggrieved state he didn't think it wise to take any drastic actions, especially when his mind was so clouded. Harry was back, but why wasn't he here?

Moving from his spot in the study, he went to his sons play room where the small boy was accompanied by his best friend Rhys. Rhys was a nice boy, with big blue eyes and was much the mischief maker of the pair. "Hello boys," He addressed the playing duo, who were currently captivated by a charmed train set. He sat with the boys and played for a while, all the time looking from the corner of his eyes to see if Harry might be standing there. Forever it was the periphery of his vision, that made the common obsession he had for Harry all the more worse. He's not here, Draco thought.

"Daddy, can we have we have a drink?" Dallas asked in his very cute manner.

"What would you two like?"

"Juice… um, orange?"

Draco nodded, and vacated the room to travel the few minutes to the large kitchen. The room was cold upon his entrance, and he realised that the whole world would be so much warmer in these troubling times, if only Harry was here. Keeping to his suspicion that the man may appear behind him at any moment, he kept looking behind himself.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked him over the phone a few hours later, when the two children had gone to bed. Rhys was staying over, which gave Draco great relief as his mind was rather complicated and too much so to deal with childish rambles. Especially now that Dallas was at the inquisitive stage of adolescence.

"I'm fine. Tired from the day but I'm good. Yourself?"

"Snape told me about what you had said. Is he really back Draco?" Hermione asked sullenly, getting straight to the point.

"Yeah, he really is." Draco confirmed, adamant in his belief that it was not a figment of his imagination.

"Draco there is something I must tell you"

She was cut off by the insistent, hard voice of Draco: "He is really back, Hermione!"

"Yes, I believe you!" She cried back, "He told me something once, before the war." She left it up to Draco to inquire.

"And that was what?"

"That he may disappear, and one day come back to surprise us all. He said that there was a place Dumbledore once told him about which would alleviate any sin or sadness a person could have. It was rumoured that the lay lines of magic and where they all met, could be the source of redemption for even the most evil of beings. Harry had wanted to go there, but when you two became a couple he lost all interest in that place."

"And where is that place, Hermione?"

"Japan. Near Tokyo, but still Draco, even after all of this I must insist you realise that he was seen to be dead, he was on a mission. There is every possibility that he isn't still alive."

"But he is. I know he is." Hermione had nodded, even though Draco couldn't see but even the blonde could feel the gesture down the phone due to the silence that persuade. "I should go." He said before hanging up in neither rude or polite manner, it was just the way of Draco to do these things.

:break:

Things were beginning to become unbearable with Draco, now that he was seeing Harry without actually seeing Harry's face, even in his dreams where dark circles would accompany the happiest of thoughts. It was poison to his living stature, and he hated his former lover for giving him such grief. He wished like old times that he could wrap his hands around Harry's neck and strangle the boy. They had done it once during sex, but this time it wasn't for fun.

Dallas had noticed the change in his father, who no longer enjoyed playing with the small boy, but sent him on his way to occupy his own imagination on his own. Dallas was lonely, as any young boy would be without his parental looking after him, and when Draco finally thought of this he hired a live in nanny. Her name was Juliet and she had a quiet demeanour, but for all intents and purposes she was fantastic with Draco's son. She kept to herself when not needed and had she of been any more innocent, Draco would of thought her a secret sinner.

Days out were spent undercover for Draco, who had acquired much media coverage with his public antics now. It wasn't unnoticed to the prying eyes of the magical folk that their saviours boyfriend had run amok in his head. He was scrutinised by everyone, except his select inner circle who kept close in this time of mental need. Severus Snape, his Godfather, spent many a hour with Draco in hopes of gaining Draco to his point of view; that Harry was indeed dead. But on the flip side, Hermione was always there as back up to Draco's reality that Harry was very much alive and skirting around, attempting to make Draco mad.

"I think I know why he is doing it!" Draco exclaimed with a hand in the air one day, whilst Hermione made herself coffee in his kitchen. She was comforting the aging blonde once again. She was a saint to deal with it all, especially as her own lover Ron had done a runner, in a fit of rage, at the very possibility that his treasured best friend had risen from the dead.

Hermione whipped around in awe of the good tone to Draco's voice, "What do you think?" She asked. Draco moved round in front of her, smiling manically and it was good to Hermione's eyes to see the growing passion back there again.

"You said this place would free you of all sins right?" Draco asked rhetorically, Hermione nodding all the same, "Well what if I was a sin? Maybe he doesn't know me anymore, or he is just watching me."

"It doesn't make sense. It's more likely that with a replenished soul, he has found it hard to connect to people more inclined to be immoral or tainted."

"You really are smart you know! But what do I have to do to make myself more righteous?"

"Nothing Draco and unfortunately for you, your rather much a sinner in personality not just trait. I think it best you don't run off to Japan in search of the lay lines of magic."

Draco knew he wouldn't, as such magic could kill a soul it wasn't meant to cleanse. Like scouring rust off a pan, once you go too deep you can never go back. Draco was very rusty in his good will, and only now that Harry was gone was he able to indulge good giving in his son. There was the only person that he could honestly be angelic with, playing with his nanny in the next room, and he couldn't kill Dallas' only present parent just so he could suffice his selfish need for Harry.

So Draco took it upon himself to give a little more to charity in the lonely months that followed his revelation. He wondered about with a smile on his face, that made the passers by smile too and he spent more time with his son instead of locked up in his study. He made the effort to keep in touch with friends and acquaintances, including Lupin who he had round for lunch, and he even agreed to fill in as a substitute teacher for Snape when the man had to visit St. Mungo's hospital for a knee operation. He was really becoming a man of good nature, and when he did venture out on his own he very rarely saw Harry anymore. The reverse affect of what he had hoped to be the end to his problem.


	2. Chapter 2

It had never left Draco's mind that Harry was back. He had kept the knowledge stored for only himself for a while, now that a year had passed since the brunette had appeared once more in his life. All the conversations or questioning about Harry had ceased as the time went on, and it became more apparent that Hermione did not believe the man was back. Still, the occasional tingle of the necklace he wore restored the faith he had in Harry's well being, yet even the strongest of evidence did not push Draco to launce an official Ministry investigation into the case of Harry Potter.

Dallas was growing rapidly, the light of day filling the boy's intended height and facial features out in an adolescent glow. He was the spitting cross of both Draco and Harry, but as time went on only the parts of Draco were overtly noticeable. Comforting as that notion was, Draco couldn't help but pang over the fact he had carried Harry's child in hope to remember and have a piece of his lost love. And now that his love that was lost was skirting around his responsibility, it hurt to know that there was eradication of Harry in Dallas. Draco so badly wanted the resemblance to be there.

On a solitary evening out to a place he had never been before, Draco found himself alone at a dimly lit table eating a rather delicious salad. He had the momentary thought that life was good, and looking around with the comforted smile on his face he noticed that a tall dark figure was walking towards him, a nervous grin crossing his features. Draco slowly put down his fork and wiped his mouth with the starched white napkin, making sure all movements were slow in their pace. His eyes were wide and unbelieving, but there he was. "Harry?" Draco asked in disbelieving wonder.

Harry placed his hand on the back of the chair that sat in front of Draco, and pulled the seat out. Once sat down, he languidly smiled at his lover, and it was official that he was back. "Why did you let me go?" Harry asked with a deep voice that rattled against the forgetting mind of Draco.

"It was normal and you had always come back before. Why did you pretend to be dead?"

"You hurt me you know?" Harry asked back, deceit written across his face. Draco felt like Harry resented him and that was a frightening thought. "You encouraged me to go!"

"You always came back before!" Draco cried in whisper whilst his blue eyes darted about, testing the people surrounding them as to eavesdrop into their debate. "You have a son you know?"

Harry's livid face wavered, and within his passionate spirit came about an undying sense of guilt. "I do?" He asked after time, Draco looking on in recognised sadness.

Nodding, Draco affirmed the truth. "His name is Dallas."

"How long have you known I was back?" Harry asked quietly.

"Too long, where did you go?"

"Draco," Harry looked up and into his lovers eyes, "You already know that." He pushed a lock of hair away from Draco's face, smiling as he came into physical contact with his lover for the first time in years. Draco had flinched at the icy feeling Harry brought with him, knowing now that the lies the brunette had spun around himself had damaged their relationship terribly. Harry with all the effort he put into the delicate touch, couldn't deny the fear in Draco's eyes as he attempted the move.

"Didn't you ever wonder to let me know? I- the last day we saw each other- believed that soon you would be home, like always. I never anticipated that you wouldn't come back and that I would have to spend the next few years terribly alone, and frightened because you weren't here. You upped and left me Harry and it wasn't fair at all.

"You knew that I loved you and that I needed you. In my eyes you could see it, and the brazen belief that we would be together forever, and yet you let me believe that you were dead. You were dead, for so long! I was doing fine…"

Harry understood and he nodded because of that, yet his voice wasn't working at the moment for the utter resentment towards himself was brewing. It wasn't unnoticed though that he still felt hate towards his lover for letting him go, but there was the undying notion inside of him that told him this was a product of his own actions, an act that couldn't be transferred onto anybody.

"I'm sorry that you were left alone for so long, Draco. I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did Harry."

"I wish you hadn't let me go, you knew I was sick." Draco reeled back in remembrance, that in fact Harry was increasingly sick towards his date set to leave for Japan. The doctors said it was a minor bug, and nothing could be identified as untoward. Knowingly though Draco sent Harry off to Japan, with the nagging hidden itch that there was something worse with Harry. "I know now that it was a chemical imbalance in my brain. It was the reason I got hit with a curse."

Draco nodded in guilt because it was all he could do in the moment.

:break:

Wondering why he was here with his hand in Harry's barely acknowledged in his brain, was clouded over by the sudden dull realisation that there was a lot to talk about. "Harry-" Draco whispered against the sudden lips that were upon his.

"Lets sit down…" Harry mumbled against Draco's mouth, that had gasped in desperate expression of the situation. Harry was really back, was really here and all he could do was to follow slowly.

Once sitting down beside Harry, who was breathing slowly and calmly; a vibrant difference between Draco's rapid breathing and heavy heartbeat that was rolling over the two. "Oh Draco," Harry said, cupping the side of Draco's face lovingly, "Don't be scared of me…" He purred seductively in a tone that just wasn't right.

"I'm not afraid of you Potter," Draco growled menacingly. Harry smirked suddenly.

"What about all those times in the school corridors, eh? Were you never afraid I might win our war? Were you ever frightened that I may cut you up into little pieces and bury the evidence? How about the time in the girls bathroom when I used Snape's curse on you, were you ever afraid then?"

"I was always terrified by you Potter, yes. But I never backed down did I?"

Harry smiled softly, his eyes slightly cross eyed due to his deep stare into Draco's eyes. "No you never backed down, you just made up an excuse as to why you were hurting. I often wondered though whether you did actually hurt, or whether it was just a word you used to woo me into bed.

"It was always the pretence to our love making, that somehow the war had affected you just as much as it did me. I found it so romantic at first that you would feel the same as I felt or know the same that I knew."

"Are you saying I never felt anything?"

Harry continued unabated, "But when I was in Japan I realised that you couldn't possibly know what I know, or feel what I felt because your not me. Where so much passion lived within us, there was so much lack of communication. When I thought it right to talk, you thought it right to fuck me. I began to wonder whether you used me to get out of rightful sentencing for all the crimes you committed, but there is still so much of me that believes you were never really a part of the Death Eaters. And even though there is so much of us that is alike, I fear we never got to know those things properly because we always had other things on our agenda."

Harry went for silence for a while, knowing it best for reflection when both of them wanted to hurt each other. He smiled a goofy smile before adding to his previous speech, "But I love you, and I always did. I have missed you…"

"We never really said goodbye Harry."

Harry looked thoughtful for a few moments before he responded, "Yeah. I know…"

:break;

Draco tried not to think about Dallas and the implications his actions would have on his son, as he walked hand in hand up the stairs towards his bedroom. His son was staying the night at his friends house, fortunately, and he wouldn't have any knowledge of the sordid action about to take place.

There was something calm in the way they moved; a gap being filled between the time they last saw each other to the present moment. Harry's skin felt wonderful in his hand but the feeling was new again. So fresh were the memories that had risen from deep within storage, such memories of their first times together.

Even the bright lights could outshine the glorious feeling Draco felt, as he led his lover to his chamber to do the things he had missed so much. Their story was written from the times they spent in the bedroom, their love for each other had been spawned from the infamous passion between them. It was still their outlet for many years of hate, and all the things between them were massaged out like knots in the body.

Still Harry was right and they never had really known each other. For all the loving times they shared there was passionate intimacy that blocked out the real thoughts, the real feelings. Undisturbed were the times they fought at Hogwarts and the betrayal between each other. It was poetry, their lovemaking, but left were the words to tell.

And like all great romance there was faded tragedy, still lay the tracks were Draco had cried. As his blonde head met the pillow, and his lover climbed upon him to rid him of his clothes, he noticed that he was in the same place he had retreated to when he had found out about Harry. He was covering up the times he had been in the dark never knowing if Harry might come back, and he was laying upon the fragment of memory of his crying episode when his lover had passed away.

Harry was taking off his shirt when Draco realised that things were never going to be the same. He was deeply wounded by the realisation, as so much feeling and effort had gone in to getting him to this place. He felt rather betrayed by Snape and Hermione, because they were really his only sense of support now he was so very alone. And yet they had fed the belief that Harry was really back. Like any other Wizard on earth, Draco was a natural at analysing chemical reactions within his brain, as the toxin of emotion paled in comparison to his Magical gene. He had fully deduced that what was laying upon him was the ghost of a previous, good and now lost memory.

Still, it felt good to have his Harry's hands washing his sins away. The cool touch of loose fibre of a soul on his skin was enough to settle all that unbecoming doubt, because now he had come to terms with the guilt he felt for letting Harry go he could spend this one night in the company of a very much deceased, but present ghostly lover.


End file.
